Fantasieve
by Katterrena
Summary: Marcus Flint was obsessed with Katie Bell when she was a Gryffindor. What are their lives going to be like when they are both in Slytherin House? Based, with permission, on se1ge's Detained.
1. Volatile

Chapter 1

**Volatile**

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**Author's Note:** This story is based off of an passage in the story Detained ( http://chasers . magical-worlds . us/eFiction1 . 1/viewstory . php?sid195&warningR-18 - remove spaces) by the most wonderous ceejay. She has given me permission to do this. While reading Detained ( http://soulsdream . com/rivalry/viewstory . php?sid49&i1 - remove spaces) is not necessary to understand this story, I would greatly recommend it to anyone who likes snark, or great writing, or hot romance. So I encourage the reader-ly consumption of ceejay's fic.

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The only disadvantage that Marcus Flint had ever found with being over a foot taller then all of his mates was it always made it more difficult to play hide-and-go-seek. Higgs was so small that he could fit in a bleeding hatbox and Brutus, the sickly lad that he was, really wasn't much bigger. And since this wasn't his house, Marcus didn't know where all the secret rooms where and, therefore, was at an even larger disadvantage.

Turning down the umpteenth hallway, deciding that getting as far away from the starting place was a good idea, Marcus was running not paying any mind to things around him. Thankfully the yellow-haired banshee on a broom was making enough noise that he had no choice but to pay attention.

Sliding to a stop, Marcus watched in rapt fascination as the broom-rider came barrelling towards him. It was a tiny, fine-boned little girl with long white-blonde hair tied into braided pigtails, he noted. She had large blue eyes and creamy pale skin, both of which reminded Marcus of his mother's glass dolls. But most importantly she had the horrid, boxy and mechanical grip of a keeper.

The banshee was wailing at him. "Get out of my way!! Move it, you big meanie!!!"

Given the swerving patterns that the girl was executing, Marcus doubted that she had much control over the broom that was probably taller then she was.

"Move, you lumb'ring troll!" She screamed and appeared to aim directly for Marcus' midsection.

As the broom moved forward to gore him, Marcus sidestepped with a speed and grace unexpected in a boy of his size. With perfect timing he also grabbed the top of the banshee's broom and tilted it towards the ground.

Since the girl had such an outrageously horrible hold of keeper's grip, as the broom went down, she lost grasp of it and went flying off the end and into gargoyle that was sitting on the floor. The little girl's body skittered to a stop on the claws of the gargoyle, who took immediate offence and pushed her away before turning around and snuggling himself down with his back to both Marcus and the girl. But the little girl didn't get up. She looked the doll of his mother's that had come crashing off the self that he'd tried to put his brother on; her legs were bent in strange ways and one of her arms was stuck behind her back at a bizarre angle. She looked broken.

Marcus felt a desperate sob well up in his throat. He hadn't meant to break her, she had been trying to gore him with her broom and all he did was grab her broom. It was instinct, not maliciousness! Marcus took a careful step towards her little body; he noticed with growing panic that she looked like she was wearing a chemise and drawers – the underclothes of dress robes. Oh, this was bloody marvellous! He'd killed a little girl and now everybody was going to think that he had tried to do something grown up, like torture her without her clothes on by giving her kisses. Ugh, that was disgusting just thinking about it. Why would he, a boy in every sense of the word, want to give a girl a kiss? It was bad enough when he had to kiss his mother!

Kneeling next to her broken form, Marcus gently eased her arm out from under her back. A sharp gasp of air came from the little girl; startled, Marcus stood back up. The blonde rolled her shoulders a few times and put her feet in front of her. She then rocked onto the balls of her feet and sprang into a standing position, her head nearly colliding with Marcus' elbow.

Those enormous blue eyes scrunched up in an attempt at a furious glare. "Who do you think you are? Trying to throw me off my broom! The nerve of you!" She went up to Marcus' chest but failed to be intimidated by their marked difference of height. In fact she was repeatedly jabbing her finger into his stomach while she berated him.

Marcus looked down at her, crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture that made him look bigger and always made everyone leave him alone and run for their mothers. "If I was trying to throw you off your broom, I would have thrown you much farther. Besides that broom is too big for you, it can't be yours. Little girl brooms don't go that fast."

"Pshaw. My broom goes faster then yours, I bet you!" The little banshee paused though and a sheepish look past over her face. "But, I guess you are right. That's not my broom. It belongs to the little boy who lives at this house."

"You stole Pucey's broom?" Marcus asked, goggle-eyed. The broom was Adrian's baby and he was sure to have a fit when he found out a girl had taken it.

The little girl gestured in a way that gave the impression that Marcus' question didn't matter. "Who are you? You didn't tell me yet."

Marcus cast a short glare over the girl before answering. "I am Marcus Flint."

"I'm Katharine Louise Isadora Bell! But people call me Katie. My father knows all about a disease that you get from eating raw fwooper brains! I'm going to be a professional Quidditch Chaser when I'm older. Are you related to Volumnia Flint, who runs that big company?" The girl blinked up at him.

Half of what she said was lost on Marcus because the only thing that had registered in his brain was big blue-eyes. Instead of trying to figure out what she had said Marcus asked: "How old are you, girl?"

"I turned five two weeks ago!" She said importantly and put up the appropriate amount of fingers to correspond with her declaration. Then she glared at him again. "My name is Katie! Not 'girl!' "

Marcus rolled his eyes. "Fine." He waited a deliberately long moment before adding: "Katie."

Again the little banshee glowered at him. "Maybe I take that back. Maybe you aren't good enough to call me Katie. You should have to call me Queen of Quidditch until you've made up for the fact that you threw me off that silly boy's broom."

It irritated him to even think that she wouldn't consider him worthy to call her by her name. He was as worthy of her as any other bloke, more so because he had NOT broken her. "I didn't throw you, for the last time." Marcus glowered back at her. "And if you hadn't been holding the broom like some pansy-assed keeper you wouldn't have gone flying off it either!"

She flung back. "Like you could do any better, troll!"

"Infinitely better then you, banshee!"

"Show me, then!"

"Fine!"

And with clipped movements Katie was mounted on Adrian's too-big broom and Marcus was moulding her hands into firm chasers-grip. Without even realising it, Marcus was giving her a run down on the benefits of this particular grip: "… A good Chaser – you were planning to be a Chaser, right? – should be able to do all their catching without removing their hands from their broom. That way they have more stability and manoeuvrability with their hands on the broom shaft. The Quaffle should always be caught in the basket of your arms made by this grip on the broom. Only remove your hands when you are trying to pass, score or do a trick. And since you have no skills on your broom yet, I don't think that you should try any tricks yet."

Katie, much to Marcus' surprise, absorbed all of his rant. "I have skills!! I'm really fast! Everyone tells me so!"

"Going fast isn't a skill; it's a death-wish." Marcus' voice was modulated, his brain still in teaching mode. "It requires talent to use speed properly. If you only have speed then you are no better then those irritating Seekers."

She made a disgusted sound. "Seekers are stupid."

Marcus grinned. Maybe the banshee wasn't so bad after all.

"Your teeth are strange."

Or maybe not. "Go away, child." Marcus gestured loftily. "You've already ruined my afternoon."

"I don't think that you've understood the game, mate." Adrian emerged from a small passageway behind Marcus and Katie. "You are supposed to be hiding, not talking to the gargoyles."

Katie poked her head around Marcus' much larger form. "I'm not a gargoyle! I'm Katie Bell!"

"Merlin! Is that my broom?" Incredulousness and a tinge of hysteria filtered through Adrian's voice.

"Look Adrian," Marcus began.

Adrian stalked forward. "Don't you even start - "

"Katie-Darling? Are you down here?" A woman's voice called.

Katie's little face grimaced and she quickly got off the broom. "Yes, Mama. I'm here." With an expert toss the broom was now in Adrian's hands and Katie put herself in the lee of Marcus' shadow.

A moment later a woman, in afternoon tea robes, appeared at the end of the hallway. She was tall for a woman, had dark blonde hair and green eyes. Even to a boy of six, Marcus knew that she was a beautiful woman. She smiled softly at Marcus. "Katie-Darling, stop hiding behind young Master Flint."

A rosy blush stole across Marcus' swarthy cheeks. The lovely lady knew who he was.

"I'm fine where I am, Mama. You don't need to worry about me." Katie peeked out briefly before moving even closer to Marcus.

"Oy, Marcus." Adrian interrupted. "Why is the little girl only wearing her dressy under-things?"

Mrs. Bell frowned as she moved towards them. "Oh dear. Katie-Darling, did you take your dress robes off again?"

"They make me look like a doll, Mama!" Katie protested, again cuddling closer to Marcus to avoid her mother. "I don't like wearing them."

Unwittingly Marcus was nodding in agreement. She did look like a doll, dress robes would only make that more obvious. Also without realising it, Marcus had put his arm around Katie's small shoulders.

A small sigh left Katie's mother. "Regardless, Darling, you can't go about in naught but your underpinnings. It's not seemly and this is not our house, so you cannot get away this as much." She came to a stop and gently tugged on one of Katie's braids. "Now let go of your Marcus here, and we can go home for you to change into something else."

Marcus blushed again at being called Katie's Marcus but was able to position himself in such a way that neither Adrian nor Mrs. Bell could see it. Katie could have seen it, technically, had her face not been lodged in Marcus's ribs.

Katie still had not budged. "You're tea party is over then? We wouldn't have to come back?"

Her mother smiled. "Yes, Darling, the tea party is done. We can go home and you can ride your broom, should you want."

"Huzzah!" Katie cried, attempting to spring away from Marcus only to discover that he still had his arm wrapped around her protectively. After some grumbling from both of them, Katie was free to jump into her mother's waiting arms. As she let her head drop onto her mother's shoulder, Katie announced: "Marcus threw me off that boy's broom."

Marcus stiffened in horror.

"But then he showed me a good grip so it will never happen again." Katie looped her arms around her mother's neck. "Marcus probably saved my life, Mama."

"Then thanks are in order." The lovely Mrs. Bell turned her slightly bemused gaze to Marcus. "I sincerely thank you for teaching my darling daughter that grip, Master Flint. And for saving her life, in the possible future."

Marcus stamped his feet as he blushed furiously and looked anywhere but the blonde Bells. "It's not my fault she didn't break herself." He heard himself say.

"Thank you in any case." Mrs. Bell squeezed his shoulder. "Katie is precious to me."

"S'not a problem, Madame. My word as a wizard." Marcus mumbled, still blushing.

With a final smile to Marcus and a nod to Adrian, Mrs. Bell, carrying Katie, walked off down the hallway.

"Mama?" Marcus heard Katie ask.

"Yes, Katie-Darling?"

"Will I have teeth like Marcus when I'm older?"

Marcus scowled fiercely at the little girl's back.

"Would that be so horrible?" Mrs. Bell responded to her daughter.

Katie paused for a moment. "No. Having teeth like that wouldn't be as bad as being a Seeker."

Mrs. Bell laughed. And Marcus cracked a small smile. Maybe Katie Bell wasn't such of a horrible little girl after all.

"Hello? Marcus? Focus!" Adrian snapped. "What did the little fae do to my broom??"

But girls were still girls and they held no interest to Marcus Flint, age 6.

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**Disclaimer:** The characters and many of the locations described herein are the property of J. K. Rowling and all of her varied associates. The situations are based on passages by ceejay. I own whatever creative licence is leftover. 


	2. Duress

Chapter 2

**Duress

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**Author's Note:** This story is based off of a passage in the story Detained ( http://chasers . magical-worlds . us/eFiction1 . 1/viewstory . php?sid195&warningR-18 - remove spaces) by the most wondrous ceejay. She has given me permission to do this. While reading Detained ( http://soulsdream . com/rivalry/viewstory . php?sid49&i1 - remove spaces) is not necessary to understand this story, I would greatly recommend it to anyone who likes snark, or great writing, or hot romance. So I encourage the reader-ly consumption of ceejay's fic.

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When families owned more then one home in their own country, what possessed them to vacation in strange and completely foreign ones? 

That was the thought that had ran continually through Katie Bell's mind since her family had arrived on the Grecian isle of Crete. As far as Katie was concerned this place was hot, smelly and the sun had burnt her skin to an uncomfortable shade of cheery pink. The only thing do to on this miserable island was to go outside and play, since everything inside was eons old and very breakable. Therefore, because of Katie's sunburn, all sun protection charms made her already sensitive skin itch like mad, the normally very active 12-year-old Katie had been trapped indoors for two days.

Her only relief from this boredom had been the evenings. And that was not saying much.

The Bells were not the only family from Wizarding Britain who had decided that Crete would be lovely in July. Katie's mother's cousin Lucinda Roland-Higgs and her family had come along. Mr. Higgs had suggested that the Puceys come along as well. After the Puceys had been invited the Flints and Parkinsons had also joined in the expedition. The Malfoys had come briefly but had not been able to linger because they reacted strongly against the sun.

Katie sniggered to herself about the rather comical sight it had been to see the very aristocratic – practically albino – Malfoys cringing in pain with every move while their skin was an angry red hue.

The Malfoys' reaction to the sun, in Katie's opinion, was irrefutable proof that vacationing should never leave ones own country for long periods of time. If they had never left England then it was probable that she would not be wondering through a darkened labyrinth of corridors trying to find her way back to the dining room.

Considering that she had been trying to find her way back for nearing on half an hour, Katie was getting quite desperate. It was discombobulating enough that she was beginning to suspect that this seemingly un-enchanted manor had moving rooms or at least an old fashioned Never-Ending-Hall Charm that made a corridor stretch into an eternity between doors. Hogwarts, in Katie's First Year experience, had 37 moving rooms and at least 4 Never-Ending-Halls. All of them were best to be given wide berth unless unavoidable circumstances forced one into their usage.

Katie rounded a corner. 'Speaking of unavoidable circumstances.' She thought with a grimace.

Marcus Flint stood at the end of the corridor.

She gulped, an unfortunately audible sound.

Katie had many feelings about Marcus, all of them contrasting against each other. When they had been younger, after their cataclysmic first meeting, Marcus would occasionally find her, at some event that both their families had attended, while she was the gardens on whatever broom she could find. He would study what ever she was doing, bark out how she should be doing it differently, carefully show her how to do it, watch tersely as she preformed it to his liking, then walk away. Katie would admit that Marcus knew what he his Quidditch; she, when it suited her, even adopted his style of doing things. But never had there ever been a time when she felt at ease under his stare, she felt too exposed, too vulnerable to him, almost as if she had lost, some unexplained game, to him. When he left Katie always breathed a sigh, from relief that she was no longer being inspected or from the very girlie feeling of loosing his presence Katie had never allowed herself to discern.

Because of their combined parents' social agenda, Katie had not seen Marcus from the time he had went to Hogwarts until the day that she had been Sorted into Slytherin House. Katie had been very shocked to discover that Marcus as a Second Year, who was always a very tall boy, was now as tall as most of the boys in Fifth Year. The now gianormous boy still watched Katie when she went out on to the school's pitch to practice, but during these times he didn't say anything, he just watch as intently as ever. The occasional time that Marcus was still out on the pitch for Slytherin Quidditch Team practice when Katie arrived, he would stay on the pitch in his gear and wait for her to join him. That was really the only time that Katie ever had Marcus speak to her directly that year. They ranged from taunts to praise; adulations and insults all abounded in their flights together.

Also from these flights, Katie had sized him up as a rival chaser. Marcus was always going to be bigger and stronger then she was, there really was no two ways around that. He was a lot cleverer then everyone believed. She could clearly see from every practice she watched and from every game he played that he had an amazing mental view of the field and could see a play before anyone else did, and that, in Katie's opinion, put him a mile above the rest. You have the best technical-skills in the world, but if you had no sense of how you fit into the team or how the team worked in tandem, you would be nothing. Hence, Marcus and Katie's shared dislike for the completely ridiculous position of Seeker.

But from those flights with Marcus, who was in Katie's opinion a truly extraordinary player, she knew how she stood against the best. Marcus' size, bulk and strength lessened his speed, Katie was faster then he was. Also because of Marcus' size and robes fit him much more snugly then others, so it was easier to see what his movements were; Katie, being substantially smaller, could kick, elbow, knee and scratch from the safety of under her robes without anyone ever being able to pin the blame on her. Marcus truly envied her for this ability, wanting it desperately but all the while cursing Katie for her willingness to use it on him.

It was because of Katie's ability to get close Marcus on the Quidditch pitch that she was aware of some of the more problematic feelings associated with Marcus. She knew that the second that her mind strayed from the game while she and Marcus were entangled over the Quaffle that her body reacted in a way that it only did for Marcus. Her entire torso began to tingle, focusing, much to Katie's embarrassment, around her breasts and the unmentionable places below her bellybutton. Everything felt too hot, but she was always shivering. Whenever this happened during a scrimmage against Marcus, Katie always lost the ball to him.

The horrible feeling of loosing around Marcus was why she had tried very hard not to be in any situation around him, during this vacation, where she could loose. Loosing, unfortunately, came in many forms with Marcus: loosing focus, loosing a verbal spar, loosing a physical spar (those events were uncommon since Marcus was always super-vigilant because of their marked size difference), loosing a Quidditch match, loosing personal space, loosing self-control and the list goes on. So, pretty much, Katie had avoided him like the very plague since they had got to Crete. But it did not appear that he was going to let her avoid him right now.

Marcus bared his primitive teeth at her in an expression that Katie knew he liked to use to intimidate others. Basically, it meant that he wasn't even going to try to hide the fact that he was there to bother her.

'How lucky I am.' Katie thought sarcastically.

"Lost, little girl?" The expression, vaguely resembling a smile, widened.

Katie allowed herself to glare at him. "I have no want or reason to play 'Big Bad Wolf' with you, Flint. Tell me where the dining hall is and allow me to pass."

Marcus rocked back on his heals as she came closer, that horrible smile-like expression never leaving his face. "You wound me, Miss Bell, by implying that I would do anything other then what you ask. And we have known each other long enough for you to know that I would never eat you unless you asked."

That was another thing that Katie had learned not to like about Marcus, he always said things that she was sure didn't mean what she thought it meant. What ever that phrase meant, Katie was positive that Marcus' expression had turned 'wolfish.' Katie had heard some of the older girls in the common room whisper it and had never actually found out the exact definition but whatever it was she was sure that it suited Marcus right now. Summoning her composure she drawled out, sarcastically. "Well, since you are such of a gentleman, Flint, I beg of you to take me back to dinner. I have been gone long enough that I no longer have to pretend to eat those fish eggs and squid; we should be at dessert now, so I can eat that exquisite delicacy of a honey pastry."

Katie had started to move down one of the hallways before Marcus grabbed her around the waist, picked her up and positioned her to walk in the other direction. She suppressed the squeal of alarm that wanted to rip through her throat but just barely. For the indignity of being treated such a way, all the lectures on decorum briefly falling out the back of her head, Katie felt no qualms about winding up and giving Marcus a strong punch to the shoulder. True, a normal boy his age would have been felled by it, but all Marcus did was shrug a little on the impact; the fact that any reaction was elicited still made Katie feel better.

Marcus grinned a real smile at her outburst. While Katie was beginning to forgive him, now that that horrible expression of his was replaced by a genuine smile, the bloody lout had to ruin it by teasing her again. "By fish eggs and squid, I assume you mean teremasalata and calamari. And the honeyed pastries you mean baklava, yes?" Another smile was forced to Marcus' lips as he beheld Katie's expression at his words.

She was about ready to kill him. "I don't speak this heathen language, nor do I have any inclination to learn it." Katie snarled at him.

"Come now, Miss Bell, Greek is the language of philosophy and some of the most ancient magics." Marcus goaded, keeping pace with her and occasionally steering her down the correct hallway.

"Like you can recite any Greek philosophy!" She hissed, as he positioned her roughly to walk down a new hall.

Marcus intoned, with an impressively clear accent: "Veni, vedi, veci."

"That's Latin, you Neanderthal, not Greek. And those were the words of a conqueror not a philosopher!"

"I came, I saw, I conquered. That sounds like a marvellous philosophy to me." Again, his lips quirked.

"Only because you are a great bloody brute who likes the idea of 'conquering' anything that crosses your path." Katie flung the words back.

"I don't believe that I have made a conquest of you."

She rolled her eyes. "How nice of you to think of me."

"Yes, it really was. Thank you ever so much for noticing." Marcus made a quick polite bow.

Feeling testy from Marcus' domination – of her body, the conversation, ex cetera – Katie unsheathed her claws, going for blood. "One must comment on how gentlemanly you are. Such courtly manners must have been painstaking to learn for a troll."

He had her pinned against the wall in less then a second, not in the standard romance novel position that had the man rubbing his entire body against the woman's but with his arm outstretched and his hand curled around her neck. "I am not a troll." Marcus stated very clearly. "My skin is dark, yes, but it does not make me a troll."

Marcus did have a dark olive skin tone, which was extraordinarily odd for an Englishman born and bred; and coupled with his feral teeth, many had assumed that he was distantly related to forest trolls, the smallest type of troll, who were known for their dark olive – occasionally greenish – skin tone. When they had been children, calling Marcus a troll was the fastest way to get yourself hurt, even girls hadn't been spared Marcus' wrath – though it was usually in the form of a spider in their hair.

Seeing the emotionless wall in Marcus' eyes, Katie was instantly regretting her words. Gone was the irritating banterer and in his place was a shell of boy with cold, hard eyes.

With one hand wrapped around the arm that held her aloft, she reached her other hand to his chest and clutched a fist into the silky, midnight material. "I'm sorry." No sound passed through Katie's throat but her lips did make the appropriate movements.

Something seemed to have gotten through to Marcus because he immediately let go of her; which sent her toppling into his chest as she sucked air back into her lungs. Now with both hands fisted in Marcus' shirt, Katie leaned into his chest. He was big enough, he wasn't going anywhere, might as well make use of him. Then, after a quick-check around the hall for onlookers and a long sigh - of what Katie decided might have been regret from someone other then him - Marcus gathered his arms around her and dropped his chin to the crown of her head. He let out a long muttering grunt, that had a strange resemblance at one part to the intonation for the word 'sorry,' but Katie knew Marcus well enough to know that she was mistaken.

"You know, Bell, if you wanted me to hold you, there are simpler, more friendly ways to convince me to do that." Marcus muttered, this time intelligibly. "An example of that might be: 'Marcus, you're so tall and strong; and I am so small and whatnot. Won't you shelter me with your big, brawny body?'"

Katie spluttered with indignation, trying to form some kind of retort.

"Then I would say: 'But of course, Katie. It would give me no greater pleasure then to do so. Now, for the sake of scheduling, how long do you require me to be the rock of your existence?' You would reply, your eyes aglow: 'Oh, why, Marcus, my love, I shall require you at my side for all of eternity.' 'So, long as bathroom breaks and Quidditch are accepted as time-off,' I would reply, 'then we shall get on smashingly.'" Marcus flashed a grin at her. " 'Only if I get to play Quidditch with you.' You would coo."

"Marcus, I'm not on the team. Beckwatters would never let a girl play." Katie spoke slowly, as if to dim-witted creature.

"You were in First Year, Katie. What did you expect? I didn't even play Quidditch my First Year. But, in any case, Beckwatters graduated last year. I'm positive that the new Captain would let you on the team." He paused before continuing. "So long as you didn't get broken during the try-outs."

Katie snorted. "And what makes you say that he'll let me join the team?"

"He's seen you fly. He isn't stupid enough to let talent go just because it smells lemons rather then unwashed socks."

"Really? The only person that has seen me fly, on the Slytherin Quidditch Team, is you."

Marcus shot her a look. "Who do you think is Captain, Bell?"

Katie could feel her eyes widening. "You're joking?" When he only smiled, she tightened her hands on his shirt in order not to fall. "But you are just going into Third Year. It will only be your second year on the Quidditch Team. They don't ever have Captains that young."

Marcus was grinning, if he hadn't had Katie in his arms she wouldn't have put it past him to be bouncing on his heels. "The last Captain who was 14 was during the Black Death! I read it in the Hogwarts Quidditch Ledgers."

"You are the only one to have ever read those things." Katie rolled her eyes. "Most of them are still written in Latin."

"Only until 1822."

"That's exactly my point, Marcus." She snipped, then paused ruminating over all that had been said. "So when are the tryouts?"

Marcus grinned again. "Third weekend of September."

"I can't play on the Team." Katie shook her head. "My style is all wrong for the team. I fly in Davidov's style with Harpy elbows. The Team's style along the Chasers Line of Smash-and-Grab would not benefit from a small, albeit fast, flyer."

"Beckwatters was a Beater; he only knew Smash-and-Grab. Added to the fact that he had no imagination and the intelligence of a piece of rabid seaweed, he could not have made any plays on his own." Then Marcus shrugged a singular shoulder. "Just because that style has been used by the Slytherin Team before doesn't mean that I will continue to use it."

An adage came to her. "The past is the greatest foreteller of the future." Then Katie pondered for a moment before glancing at Marcus quizzically. "Who pissed you off so much that you are throwing them off the Team? Warrington? Wait Montague will be trying out for chaser position this year. You despise the bugger, you'd never let him play on your team."

"What does that have to do with anything, Bell?" Marcus was frowning.

"My galleon is on Montague. Two egos the size of yours in the same position doesn't work well for team dynamics."

"Ego has nothing to do with it." Marcus growled. "It is merely that someone of Montague's brawn and lack of mental capacity would be better suited to the position of Beater."

"I told you it was Montague." Katie grinned. "Now give me my galleon."

Marcus' head reared back. "I never agreed to your little bet! In any case, I thought you were making that bet with one of your other personalities. You know the one: the devious, little, blond harpy who likes to make appearances while on the Quidditch Pitch by taking over your elbows?"

"Not everybody is the size of Colossus!" Katie stamped her foot. "I want to win as much as you do, you lummox, and to do that I'll use what ever I can to achieve that."

Marcus' hands tightened on her body and a flicker came to life in his eyes. "That is why you will play on the Slytherin House Team." Then he leaned down, his jaw scraping along Katie's cheekbones before his lips were level with hers.

Katie wondered, faintly, at how deeply Marcus must have been bent over and how much longer it was going to take him to yell at her for being too short. She felt her eyes flutter when she came out of her mind long enough to realise that Marcus was looking very intently.

'His eyes are dark green,' was the sole intelligible thought that went through her head. 'I always thought they were brown.'

Only after Marcus had dropped his gaze from her eyes to her lips three times did Katie twig onto the idea that he could potentially be planning on kissing her. Then a quick check of all her inner rules and moral codes told her that kissing Marcus might be rather lovely way to pass the time before they went back for dessert with their families.

Katie felt one of Marcus' hands press the small of her back, encouraging her to bring her body closer to his. As she complied, he brought one of his big hands to her face, a large thumb danced over the crest of her cheekbone. His hand sunk into her hair then forced her to drop her head back and wait for, what Katie assumed would be, her first kiss.

" 'Tit frère? 'Tit frère!" A voice echoed off the endless hallways, sounding suspiciously like Peeves at his most impish.

Marcus' lips, which Katie had been expecting to caress her own at any given moment, were now occupied by enunciating every swear Katie had ever heard and quite a few that she never had the pleasure to hear before. She was also bemused enough by the preceding events that she didn't even thing to hit Marcus for picking her up and depositing her behind him.

"Mon petit frère? Òu est-ce que tu cache?" The mocking voice continued. " 'Tit frère?"

"Shut up, Antony! What in the name of bloody Hell do you want?" Marcus snarled.

Antony, Marcus' gilt and ivory fabricated older brother, popped his head around a corner to there right. "There you are, 'tit frère. Mamman was worried that something had befallen you and, rather risk possible dishonour by sending out a non-family member to find you incinerating bodies, she sent me to find her favourite youngest son."

"You've found me and I shall return to dinner posthaste. You may be on your way, now, Antony." Marcus gestured impatiently for his brother to leave.

Antony ignored him and walked over to where they were standing. "Mamman also said that if I were to find the young Miss Katie Bell I should escort the poor darling back to the dining room." He walked around his larger, though younger, brother. "Come, chèrie, let's get you back. The desserts are served and I'm sure that there is something that will be as sweet as you." He extended an arm to the very perplexed Katie.

Before Katie could answer, one way or another, Marcus had grabbed hold of Antony's arm himself and used it as a handle to launch his brother across the hallway. "I will escort Katie back, you barmy git!"

To his credit, Antony landed on his feet then proceeded to adjust the hang of his sea-foam-green dress-robes. "Comme tu veut, 'tit frère." He responded with a delicate shrug before sweeping off in the direction from whence he came.

Marcus growled something low in his throat before turning back around to Katie. He gave her a thorough look, with an intensity that he usually saved for when he was watching her form in Quidditch, before grabbing her arm and tugging her along beside him. "I'll get you some baklava after I kill my brother."

Katie blinked. "Alright."

He grunted.

Marcus continued to pull her down hallways, that all looked the same to her, for several minutes before she worked up the courage to say anything more. "So you aren't going to kiss me, then?"

He came to a dead stop at that. The same flickering intensity was back in Marcus' eyes when he spoke. "Not tonight."

"Oh," Katie couldn't keep the hint of disappointment out of her voice.

At that, the corner of Marcus' mouth kicked up before he dragged her into the dining room.

* * *

**Translations:**

'Tit frère : Little brother. Very informal.

Mon petit frère : My little brother.

Òu est-ce que tu cache : Where are you hiding.

Chèrie : Dear one.

Comme tu veut : As you wish.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** The characters and many of the locations described herein are the property of J. K. Rowling and all of her varied associates. The situations are based on passages by ceejay. I own whatever creative licence is leftover. 


	3. Competition

Chapter 3

**Competition**

* * *

**Author's Note:** This story is based off of an passage in the story Detained ( http://chasers . magical-worlds . us/eFiction1 . 1/viewstory . php?sid195&warningR-18 - remove spaces) by the most wonderous ceejay. She has given me permission to do this. While reading Detained ( http://soulsdream . com/rivalry/viewstory . php?sid49&i1 - remove spaces) is not necessary to understand this story, I would greatly recommend it to anyone who likes snark, or great writing, or hot romance. So I encourage the reader-ly consumption of ceejay's fic.

* * *

Marcus jaw clenched. It was all he could do. Everything inside of him screamed to maim Montague for touching Katie. But he couldn't, his hands were tied. As a Slytherin female, there were things that she needed to know and very thought that he would be the one to do it made Marcus ill to his stomach.

With a vicious movement Montague nearly unseated Katie. It took extraordinary restraint on Marcus' part not to come forward to help her; a muscle in his jaw twitching spasmodically was the only indication of that sentiment, though. Marcus was relieved to find that Katie had managed to reposition herself properly on her seat but her movements were sluggish and her eyes had taken on a glassy, deadened look.

"Montague," Marcus called, then proceeded to lie through his teeth. "You have done me a great service, I thank you." He dismissed the other boy with a nod, when all he really wanted to do was smash Montague's face into a bloody pulp.

Montague, sick mind that he was, gave Marcus a jaunty wave, and was off in a flutter of green robes.

Katie still hadn't moved since she had righted herself and was now staring off into the distance. It looked like the last hour of Montague's beating had broken her spirit, rather then just make her more aware and comfortable with what would be expected from a Slytherin.

Marcus cautiously moved closer to Katie but did not speak for a time.

Katie's shoulders slumped in some perceived defeat now that Montague was no longer regarding her and there might have been a slight sniffle but Marcus wasn't sure on that count.

Then he turned to her, his voice gruff. "What have you learned, Bell?"

"That, apparently, until I have cleavage big enough for Montague to drive his male member between for an orgasm, I have no actual worth." Katie blinked and some of the hollowness behind her eyes left.

Horrified, Marcus could only stare goggle eyed, unable to do more then just gape at this situation.

She then tilted her head in thought. "But that would mean that I would have to have the fattest breast in history to be able to caress something so microscopic it is only rumoured to exist and has yet not been seen by a trustworthy source. Rumoured existence or no, there is the rather unfortunate fact that female worth is then calculated by the measurement of breasts. How would one measure a breast? Certainly not with scales, I would hope. It would be very cold to lay a naked breast on a metal - "

"Enough!" Marcus bellowed, finding his voice. "That repulsive beast was supposed to have been harassing your Quidditch game, not leading small minds into uncharted territory!"

A wind picked up on the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch and Marcus and Katie steadied their brooms until they were comfortable again, hovering two thirds of the way down the East end of the Pitch. Mist was circling on the ground and the lit torchières were what made it possible that they could see each other, let alone the goal posts.

Marcus pulled a tight circle around Katie, forcing her to acknowledge that they were on the Pitch.

Katie evaded him then frowned and followed the topic, in her own way. "Why is it that you had me playing Chaser against Montague's counter-Chaser? He plays Beater on the Team. Why him? Why not Warrington, who actually plays Chaser?"

"Montague is our reserve Chaser, should anything happen to either you or Warrington." It was inconceivable that he himself would be injured to such an extent that he would not be able to play Quidditch, so he left himself out of the list of possible Chasers that Montague would substitute in as. Then he continued. "This exercise is to work on his paltry skills of that position. The reason why I had him paired with you, instead of Warrington, is that Montague hasn't hit any growth spurts yet and therefore knows how to use the body that he has. Whereas Warrington is now twice as big as he thinks he is and couldn't find his ass if you asked it of him." Marcus stated. "I asked you two to the Pitch tonight to work on your abilities with intended maliciousness, ergo Montague, rather then involuntary spasms of stupidity, that would be Warrington."

Katie nodded, seeing the truth of his answer.

Marcus then glared at her for leading the conversation in directions that he had never wanted to pass through. "Now, Miss Bell, would you now tell me if you have learned anything pertinent to Quidditch from this excursion tonight? Such as what to do when someone bigger and stronger then you is manhandling you?"

Katie curled into herself at his tone before muttering sarcastically. "Fly away?"

"Good, yes, use your speed to your advantage." Marcus nodded, ignoring the sarcasm in light of the fact that she had given him the answer that he wished.

Katie blinked at him, wide-eyed. "Really?"

"Of course, you are faster then everyone else on a broom here at Hogwarts. You should be marketing that talent instead of trying to be like the rest of the lads, all of whom out weigh you and have no qualms about beating you bloody if you make yourself a target by just sitting there with the Quaffle."

"So you want me to run like a coward?" Katie asked, disbelieving.

"It isn't cowardice when you are using your talents to your advantage."

Irritation flashed across Katie's face. "But you always led me to believe that if someone is going to harm me that I should harm them first!"

"Only if you can't get around it." Marcus then smirked. "If you ever get any bigger you might be able to eventually throw some weight into your counter-attacks. But until then, just fly and no one will be able to touch you."

All of the hollowness that had been a result of Montague's humiliating beating vanished from Katie's bright blue eyes when she turned to tease him. "Even you can't catch me?"

Marcus haughtily brushed his Quidditch gloves against his green team jumper. "Please. You are a team rookie and I am Slytherin Team Captain. You would never be able to keep up with my speed."

"Ha!" Katie's eyes shimmered with intensity. "A whole load of rubbish, that is!"

"Are you suggesting a race, Miss Bell?" Marcus arched an eyebrow.

Katie grinned. "No, you just have to avoid me until it is obvious who is the faster."

"Are we counting to three?" He drawled with a smirk.

"Three!" And she was lunging towards him.

Perhaps it should be mentioned that Marcus did have a better broom then Katie. While they both flew on Nimbi (plural of Nimbus, by the by) Katie's model was the much older 1001, though in good condition it wasn't Marcus' Nimbus 1700. Despite the fact that the odds were tipped in Marcus' favour on that count, Katie was actually faster then he. Added to the fact that she was intelligent enough to constantly change the angle of her pursuit and force Marcus into the crosswind, slowing him.

Their chase had taken them high above the stands, up into the high, cold winds. When a hard breeze forced Marcus to veer to the left, he found a pocket of dead air and began to fall rapidly. Not realising that Marcus' sudden drop was inadvertent, Katie plunged down towards him; only to get caught in the same dead air. The charms on Marcus' broom reacted first to the unplanned loss of altitude and stop its descent, but Katie's broom had yet to recognise that it's downward fall was unnaturally fast.

Needless to say, it ended badly.

Katie was able to pull her broom up a small amount but it was still falling and the end of the broom caught Marcus along the shoulder. Just after it snapped across his collarbone Marcus was able to grab hold of the shaft of the broom with the opposite hand, halting Katie's freefall.

A breath hissed through Marcus' teeth. "Well that settles it, Bell. I'm putting better charms on your broom tomorrow."

"Marcus, are you alright?" Katie's eyes were enormous in her face.

Though a thin sheen of sweat was now beading on his brow, Marcus smirked. "It was a good thing that you don't have fat breasts, else that would have been a bit painful."

She glared at him. "You bloody bastard! I was actually worried for you." Katie reached forward and punched him on the arm of the shoulder she had hit with her broom.

A sickening amount of pain shot up and down his arm at that, causing him to gasp, despite his efforts not to.

Katie's eyes narrowed at the sound. "Oh, you bugger. That was all ego!"

Marcus did not deign to answer.

Moving along his unhurt side, Katie slid from her broom to his. Her broom, being well spelled, began to slowly sink to the ground. Marcus' barely dipped under the added weight.

After some rather uncomfortable prods to his shoulder, since he refused to allow Katie to take off his Quidditch robes, Katie sat back away from him. "I am going to guess that your shoulder is dislocated and that the collarbone is fractured or broken." She shifted her position so that she was now facing front of the shaft and began to bring the broom down to the green of the Pitch. "When we get down, you are going to Madame Pomfrey; I will deal with the brooms."

"But then she will tell Snape, who will be irritated so he will let it slip to Slytherin House, who will gossip about it and let the rest of the fucking school know about how I was injured by the smallest active Quidditch-player on the roster." Marcus groused, then took full advantage of Katie's position and pulled her back towards him, his legs and body cradling her own. "I will be a bloody laughing stock."

With the way that Marcus was bent over her, Katie was able to sit up in such of a way that it put their heads level. "Oh, chin up, Flint." And she turned her head and kissed him. Not on the lips but a hairsbreadth away.

For a moment Marcus could do nothing, so intense were the sensations that ripped up and down his nerves. 'You would think that she had put her hand down my pants, from this reaction.' Marcus thought bitterly. Then with a sharp exhalation, he pulled Katie against the length of his body, clamping a hand over her hip, making sure she knew what he reaction was.

"The next time you do that, I won't let you get away with just that." He rasped.

They touched the grass of the Pitch.

"I believe it." Katie responded to Marcus' threat before quickly scooping up their two brooms and heading for the boom-shed, the mist shrouding in around her.

Marcus watched her go before calling out to her. "This is when it is cowardly to run away from someone who is bigger then you are."

Katie only moved faster.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** The characters and many of the locations described herein are the property of J. K. Rowling and all of her varied associates. The situations are based on passages by ceejay. I own whatever creative licence is leftover.


	4. Detained

Chapter 4

**Detained**

* * *

**Author's Note:** This story is based off of an passage in the story Detained ( http://chasers . magical-worlds . us/eFiction1 . 1/viewstory . php?sid195&warningR-18 - remove spaces) by the most wonderous ceejay. She has given me permission to do this. While reading Detained is not necessary to understand this story, I would greatly recommend it to anyone who likes snark, or great writing, or hot romance. So I encourage the reader-ly consumption of ceejay's fic.

On another note, I wrote all references to Snape being bat-like before I read Deathly Hallows. I felt very validated when I read "The Sacking of Severus Snape," and I have much love for that chapter in general. Snape was hilarious and McGonagall rocked!

* * *

"You know that this is all your fault, right, Katie?" Marcus asked in an entirely too calm voice.

The urge to violently attack him was becoming very hard to reign in, but Katie was able to force herself to take a deep breath and turn to Marcus. "And what brings you to that conclusion?"

"Well, if you had not been blatantly flirting with that Ravenclaw, then none of this would be necessary." His voice was still too reasonable.

"What are you on about? I have never flirted with Benjamin!"

"You were flipping your long honey tresses at the little twat!" Marcus growled.

"Pardon me?" Katie asked disbelievingly, before continuing without a response from him. "I was not! I was walking through the Entrance Hall when a gaggle of itty-bitty Hufflepuffs opened the Great Doors, which created a gust of wind that blew my hair everywhere. I pushed it out of my way so I could see, you twit, not to lure Benjamin into my lair of unbridled sexuality!"

"If that is the case," Marcus gave her a look that telegraphed how much he doubted it, "then why were you two standing so bloody close together?"

"We had just come out of class with Professor Flitwick. We did Exploding Charms today, both of us are somewhat limited in our auditory range at the moment."

"I dun'na care wot yer auditory range is at the mo'. Keep yer mouth shut 'til we get t' yer 'ead of 'ouse's office!" Filch rasped out.

The procession continued through the many hallways of Hogwarts, silent but for the caretaker's occasional hacking cough. When they made it to the office, Filch bustled off into Snape's inner sanctum, leaving Mrs. Norris to guard the Slytherins. She looked them both up and down, as if to assess their threat. When she deigned them to be suitably terrified of her exalted presence, Mrs. Norris jumped rather gracefully into Snape's personal cauldron next to his desk, which was, to her credit, empty. Her eyes had a clear view over the rim of the cauldron and she seemed to be extraordinarily smug to be so protected from the large and potentially volatile Slytherin boy. Katie had no doubt that Mrs. Norris was fully aware that Snape had spelled the cauldron and stand to make sure that "bumbling fools" would not be able to knock over whatever he was brewing at the time.

"One of my roommates, the one you aren't allergic too, is convinced that Mrs. Norris is actually Mr. Filch's lover that he turned into a cat in his one great fit of magic." Katie tried at conversation, since Filch was, more then likely, embellishing the story that led them to this predicament quite a bit; therefore, they had time to kill.

Marcus growled something rather uncomplimentary in relation to the size of Flich's equipment then muttered something about the vacuous tendencies of her collected roommates. He was still sulking about this whole production that had led them down here.

"Oh, please. Morgaine is not as bad as you like to paint her. And Anastasia is merely…" Katie trailed off in an attempt to positively portray her other roommate, for whom she was forever indebted to keeping Katie supplied with the informational muggle romance-novels. "… Anastasia." She concluded, lamely.

At his continued glare, Katie rolled her eyes at Marcus as she leaned back on Snape's desk. "Oh, get off it. If you say one more time how this is all my fault, I will make sure I lose control of my broom next practice and accidentally fly into vulnerable parts of your anatomy."

Before Marcus could go off on a rant about what constitutes an accident, Snape swooped in, his robes billowing behind him, and made his way over to his desk. There was a brief moment that he paused, but merely to glare at Katie and Mrs. Norris to convince them to remove themselves from his property, and he settled behind his desk. Mr. Filch took a guard-stance next to Snape and Mrs. Norris jumped into his arms, so she could stare down the students.

"If what Mr. Filch tells me is true, there was some fracas that involved the two of you; which led to a Ravenclaw being sent to see Madame Pomfrey." Snape gestured his hands slightly. "Care to explain?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Katie saw Marcus clench his jaw as he straightened his shoulders. Since it looked like he was priming himself up for another rendition of "This Is All Her Fault," Katie hastened to explain. "Professor, Benjamin Corvus and I had just had a class with Professor Flitwick about Exploding Charms and as a result are both hearing impaired at the moment." At that reminder, she lowered her voice to what sounded like a whisper to her, but was probably about the correct range that the volume should be at. "So as to not disturb the rest of the student population from their own travails, Benjamin and I were walking more closely then is the norm. Marcus, undoubtedly, believed that Benjamin was trying to besmirch my honour and attempted to prevent any harm from coming to me before I could explain that there was no need." Katie folded her hands in front of her, hoping to channel the sincerity and trustworthy-ness of her little old Gram from Devonshire, who had been a Head Girl and a Ravenclaw to boot during her time at Hogwarts. "In all honesty, there is really no one to blame: Benjamin and I were afflicted by something that caused us both to be unnaturally without respect for propriety and Marcus was merely concerned for me."

Thankfully Marcus didn't argue the story, though he did add a: "He looked like he was about to try something, sir. Can never be too careful."

Katie rolled her eyes and hoped that only the cat noticed.

Snape glared at them separately then collectively before raising an eyebrow at them and began to speak. "Despite Mr. Flint's attempted heroism and the reason behind Miss Bell breaking social norms, what happened today reflects poorly upon Slytherin and, as such, consequences will need to be handed out. This is not a detention, merely a task for you two so that the likelihood of such a misunderstanding lessens." He turned to Filch. "Thank you for bringing them to me, I will ensure a proper punishment is dealt out."

As visions of boiling young Hogwarts students in cauldrons of Corrosive Potions were dancing in Mr. Filch's head, he made his way out of Snape's private office. He let out a cackle then closed the door but they could still hear him for quite some time, hacking and wheezing as he staggered out of the dungeon.

'Apparently,' Katie mused to herself, 'we are all going to stand here quietly until Filch is completely out of earshot. Marvellous. The joys of being a Slytherin with a pack of unrepentantly over-cautious males.'

She and Marcus were still standing stiffly before Professor Snape's desk, though Marcus' posture had relaxed a bit after he got to misalign the unsuspecting Benjamin's character.

Since he was staring intently at what looked to be an ink-stain on the Professor's desk, Katie allowed herself to study him. He was now over 185cm and still was showing no signs of tapering off any time soon, which was irritating because, while she was still the respectable height of 170cm, she had not grown a millimetre since last year. Marcus' hair had now reached, what he called, "liability length;" meaning that it was now long enough that some one could reach out and pull on it during a match, it hung in his eyes but was not yet long enough to touch his collar. His eyes, which were indeed green in colour, while tensed at the corners, were clear and Katie hoped that meant that he would not continue on his "This is All Your Fault" rant should he get the chance.

With his uncanny ability to tell if people were watching him, which would account for his unnaturally large ego, he looked up at Katie and held her gaze.

It was a rather uncomfortable moment for Katie, forced to keep eye contact after being caught staring. She imagined that this was probably similar to what it would feel like to have some one use Legitmency on you; as if they could look into your soul and there was nothing you could do about it. After Marcus was apparently satisfied with his inspection of her psyche, he gave a short nod and went back to staring at the inkblot. Katie sighed, as quietly and inconspicuously as she could.

Snape turned to face them again, signalling that his inner sneak-o-scope could no longer detect non-Slytherins within an area the size of a Quidditch pitch. "This will not happen again. Mr. Flint, you will reign in your impulses to violently deal with those in your general vicinity. Miss Bell, you will maintain the decorous personal distance that is expected from Slytherins."

Katie forced her face not to react to that comment. Didn't Snape realise that for every decorous student in Slytherin House there was an amazingly active nymphomaniac? She decided that her theory was perhaps too avant-garde for the Potions Master, so she nodded demurely to his demand.

"Furthermore, I believe that my cabinets have gone to complete disorder after an incompetent Hufflepuff attempted to organise them. You may retire for the night after the cabinets are once again usable." With that he stood and was about to flap his way out the door, like the gigantic bat that he was.

"Sir, may we seek our evening meal before we begin?" Marcus asked quickly.

Snape looked over his shoulder at him before arching an eyebrow. "You should have thought of that before you so zealously protected Miss Bell's honour." He opened the door to the hallway and gave them a look that communicated that they were supposed to follow him.

The three moved to the Potions classroom, Snape waved a wand over the wards to deactivate them. Marcus nodded approvingly as Katie rolled her eyes at the unnecessary precautions. When they entered the classroom, Snape pointed his wand at the bank of cabinets and all the doors opened to reveal hundreds of ingredients. At the sight of all they had to do Katie groaned at the same moment that Marcus' stomach growled. Looking at them pitilessly, Snape preformed a complicated wand movement and a ledger appeared on the desk closest to the cabinets.

"All of the contents of the cabinets are written in that, in the correct order. Good night, children." And with that Snape took his great batty form out of the room in a flutter of dark, drab robes.

With a piteous moan once she guessed Snape was out of earshot Katie shuffled over to the ledger then moved on to the cabinets. It didn't surprise her that Marcus took well over five minutes to join her in the task. When he did join her, he decided to antagonise her by standing so close to her that their robes were brushing against each other, she was pressed close to the cabinet to begin with and Marcus was giving her no way out. She could feel his breath on her neck and could smell the faint spicy scent of cloves that came off of him.

"Yes?" She asked, hoping that confronting him would be the fastest way to get him to leave her alone.

"That Ravenclaw isn't worthy enough to clean your shoes, let alone touch your hair." He growled.

Faintly, Katie recalled Marcus yelling something similar to that while he attempted to rearrange Benjamin's facial structure. Even more vaguely Katie remembered Benjamin batting some of her long hair out of his face so that he didn't swallow it during their conversation before Marcus beat him halfway to Scunthorpe. Again hoping to move with the path of least resistance she asked what she thought Marcus wanted to her to ask. "And who is worthy, then?"

"The strongest, the smartest, the most cunning, the swiftest, the one of the purest bloodline, the greatest to be had." Marcus, still behind her, reached out and stroked his large hand over her long honey-coloured hair and down her back.

Katie was proud that she was able to dull the shudder that wanted to rack through her body at his caress to a minute tremor. "A paragon of virtues, to be sure. With you at the top of such of a list?"

His hand tangled in her hair as he laughed bitterly. "Not hardly, Bell. I don't even rank on that list." Marcus physically lifted her around so that they were now facing each other, then with his hand still in her hair he forced her to look up at him. "But that doesn't matter; only I am going to get to touch your hair. I have never played by anyone's rules and I'm not going to start where you are concerned." He declared. "You are mine."

Yarding on her hair again, he exposed her to his mouth where he began bite and nip her neck; completely confusing Katie, who had believed that Marcus was going to kiss her on the lips. As he scraped his dangerous teeth along the column of her throat, he used his body to trap her against the cabinet. Very overwhelmed at the sensations that were trilling up and down her nerves, Katie felt that she should do something but was very unsure what to do. Acting on a tightly curbed desire, she allowed herself to put her hands in his hair. Despite the inherent dangers of having it this length in a Quidditch match, Katie truly enjoyed being able to get a solid fistful of Marcus' black hair. She gave a hard tug on his own locks as divine retribution for all the times he had pulled her hair over the years.

Katie felt Marcus' lips twitch in amusement against her neck before he nipped her and pulled back. "Are you wanting something, Katie?" He voice was a low rumble that she could feel through their touching bodies.

She ran her hands down through his hair to his broad shoulders before dragging them back up again, successfully mussing Marcus' hair. While she did this, Katie glanced at his mouth and looked away only to find her slide gaze back on his mouth.

Marcus' lips twitched again. "You want me to kiss you? But I've done that before." He sounded mockingly petulant.

"What on Earth do you mean? The closest you've ever come to kissing me was when your mother made you buss my hand and you licked it instead. Don't think your mother or I have ever forgiven you for that!" Katie pulled his hair sharply.

He grimaced. "I kissed you two practices ago." Marcus admitted.

Katie frowned at him. "Are you talking about when you bit me along the jaw bone?"

"It was a kiss, you moved the wrong way." He explained wearily.

"I got a face-full of teeth when I was supposed to get a kiss?" She glared at him.

He snorted. "Well, you moved."

"Bloody Hell, I want something a bit better then a mad scramble for my first kiss!" Katie stamped her foot.

Marcus' eyes darkened from a deep green to black. "First kiss?"

"Oh, get off it. Like you didn't know." Katie rolled her eyes.

"So, no bloody Ravenclaw gits and no psychotic roommates?" The hand that wasn't deeply ensnared in her hair flitted against her cheek.

Katie pulled a sickened grimace. "Why would I kiss Ravenclaws? And my roommates are girls; I don't want to know what boys do after curfew if you would even consider the possibility."

Without waiting for any more response, he slid his free hand into her hair and used both hands to pull her mouth to his.

They were still for a moment before Marcus broke the silence with a growl and bit her lower lip and sucked it into his mouth. Reacting to this, Katie pulled at him with her hands while she shifted her legs, trying to get him closer anyway she could. With another rumbling laugh Marcus centered his hips over hers and rocked, just once. Katie moaned into his mouth and began to agitate her body against his, hoping to feel that again. When she was becoming fretful at not being able to recapture that sensation, Marcus pulled back, smiled, dropped a kiss on her lips, then on her nose and stepped away.

Katie, braced on the cabinet, blinked several times to clear her vision. "Why did you stop?"

His lips, which looked infinitely more enthralling, now, were twisted in a small smirk. "We need to finish what we started."

"Exactly. So, why are you over there?"

Marcus pulled Snape's ledger from the desk behind him. "To get the tools needed to complete the task properly. We can't let the much praised Professor Snape down, now, can we?"

She regarded him disbelievingly. "We are going to organise Snape's potion ingredients?"

"Of course." Marcus smiled benignly. "What else would we do?"

Katie attempted to push away from the cabinet only to discover that her legs were not strong enough to support her. With her hands firmly grasping the cabinet, she sucked a breath in through her teeth. "I'm sure I have no idea."

Marcus leaned forward and ran a hand down her over-sensitized body and gave a low chuckle when Katie shuddered. "No," he agreed. "You don't."

* * *

**Disclaimer:** The characters and many of the locations described herein are the property of J. K. Rowling and all of her varied associates. The situations are based on passages by ceejay. I own whatever creative licence is leftover.


	5. Fraternity

Chapter 5

**Fraternity**

* * *

**Author's Note:** This story is based off of an passage in the story Detained ( http://chasers . magical-worlds . us/eFiction1 . 1/viewstory . php?sid=195&warning=R-18 - remove spaces) by the most wonderous ceejay. She has given me permission to do this. While reading Detained is not necessary to understand this story, I would greatly recommend it to anyone who likes snark, or great writing, or hot romance. So I encourage the reader-ly consumption of ceejay's fic.

I will take this opportunity to apologise for this chapter taking so long. Moving across an ocean takes more time out of your life then you would think.

* * *

Four boys sat drinking in Adrian Pucey's parlour off of his bedroom in the Boy's Dormitory Wing of the Slytherin Dungeons. Unlike the other houses of Hogwarts, Slytherin House members did not share bedrooms; the residents of up to three respective bedrooms did, however, share a communal parlour and a full bath. It was an arrangement that suited Slytherins better then the alternatives that the other houses suffered through.

"Why is it that the wizard is made to ask out the witch?" Terrence Higgs bemoaned. "Most of the time wizards don't really want to go, they are going because: 1) their mother wants them to; 2) their witch wants them to; or 3) their mother wants them to go with some witch they personally selected. It is never because the wizard himself wants to go."

Adrian Pucey raised an eyebrow at his friend's theatrics from his own wingback armchair. "You going on about that Samhain celebration that's coming up, Terry?"

Terry pouted and sunk down in chair, muttering incomprehensively and pouring a long draught of their contraband Muggle whiskey down his throat.

Exchanging a knowing glance with Marcus, Brutus Parkinson asked. "Who does your mother want you to go with, Higgs?"

From his ridiculous position on his chair Terry murmured intelligibly enough for his companions to understand. "My cousin."

"Which one, you prat?" Marcus rolled his eyes. "You are related to most of the wizarding world."

"The little blonde one."

Adrian screwed up his face in disgust. "That tiny Lovegood child? Corr, Ter, she isn't even at Hogwarts yet!"

Terry flopped out of his awkward position to round on Adrian. "Lovegood is your cousin; not mine!"

Adrian gave a half-shrug that communicated his indifference.

"So which blonde cousin are you taking then? Draco Malfoy?" Brutus teased.

"Bloody Hell! Malfoy and Lovegood are both Adrian's cousins! I'm not related to them!" Terry exploded.

Marcus took a swig of his own bottle of whiskey, amused by the antics of his housemates. "I'm sure if you go far enough back, you're related to them, Terrence. Hell, I think that you're my great-uncle thrice-removed on my mother's side."

"You are a Flint on both sides of your family, Marcus. What difference does it make if it is your mother or father's side?" Adrian raised a sardonic brow.

As a growl left Marcus' throat, Brutus interjected. "Marcus' parents are from different lines of Flints, everyone knows that. Whereas your parents are first cousins, Ian."

"My family doesn't believe in Appropriation Adoptions and wanted to keep the money in the family." Adrian waved a regal hand. "Regardless, we have drifted far off topic. Terry, who does your mother want you to go to Samhain with?"

Terrence managed to sink down even farther then before into his wingback, somehow. The words: "Katie Bell," should have been unintelligible but they went through Marcus like lightning.

His body stiffened everywhere, painfully so. Marcus felt inexplicably cold, though he could feel sweat begin to sheen on his brow, the back of his neck, palms of his hands, and the small of his back. His jaw locked uncomfortably. His mates, thank all the stars above, remained unaware. He hoped.

"Well, she isn't so bad, Ter." Brutus mused. "She is pretty enough and she plays excellent Quidditch. She won't try to bore you with the exact nomenclature of all the shades of her robes. She probably knows Quidditch stats better then you do."

"If she is so stellar, Parkinson, why not take her yourself?" Adrian asked, with another shot from his bottle.

Marcus roused himself and joined the conversation after finishing his bottle and grabbing a new one. "Like his pet piranha will even let him think about such a thing. If Parkinson were to discover what a real human female is like, rather than the succubus that he has, Migraine's spell over him will be broken. She can't afford to find a new host, so she will hold onto Brutus until we finally succeed in forcibly breaking her claws from his flesh."

A smile twitched across Brutus' lips. "Not that you brood overly on this, Marcus."

He answered by tipping the whiskey bottle to his mouth.

"He is just more irritated at Morgaine than normal because she sent him that bottle of firewhiskey for his birthday that made those bouzelytots take up residence in his stomach." Adrian mused.

Bouzelytots, Marcus reflected sourly, were small creatures no larger then a child's thumb of a golden green colour that were created by over magicking in the cheap liquor production of the wizarding world. Too small to see while bottled, but once they reached the highly acidic stomach, they grow to their full size. After that, they become no different then another parasite, eating all nutrients out of it's host's food, partying and breeding until the host's stomach was too full for them to dance around, so they would then send their offspring further down the intestinal track. If untreated, the host could die of starvation since the bouzelytots eat all their food before they can digest it. And in blessedly rare cases, the bouzelytots increased so exponentially that they had been known to cause internal organs, namely the stomach, to rupture and explode.

A nasty smile stretched across Marcus' face. "Somehow she didn't take into consideration that I might share some of my fine liquor with my best-mate."

"Thankfully, I know that the fastest way to get rid of bouzelytots is to drink unconstrained amounts of non-magically prepared liquor." Brutus interjected.

The un-magicked liquor, in large quantities, actually made the bouzelytots explode. It was an uncomfortable sensation to feel explosions of small beings inside ones stomach, but it was interesting to be able to drink such large amounts of whiskey, not be in the least affected by it or have to go take a piss.

"And especially lucky for you two, I happened to have recently come into possession of five cases of Scotland's finest triple malt whiskey, prepared in some still up in yonder hills by a braw family of Muggles." Adrian toasted the direction that he assumed the whiskey came from.

"By the way, Brutus, you are going to buy your charming girlfriend some hairclips later this week, just so she knows that you hold no bad feelings about her mistake that resulted in you getting some bouzelytots dancing in your stomach." Marcus declared.

Brutus raised a white-blond eyebrow. "Really? Are they pretty and all that rot? I wouldn't want to be accused of poor taste."

"They're lovely; baby-dragon's teeth dyed in quicksilver and mounted on platinum, Han dynasty, only pair in the world." Marcus assured his friend.

Adrian was impressed. "Han dynasty. Powerful smattering of wizards came out of that era."

"Not as powerful as the Qin, but yes, very powerful never the less." Brutus answered. "Do these rare, no doubt expensive, relics have any interesting quirks about them, Marcus?"

Marcus shrugged. "Nothing immediately apparent."

Adrian smiled. "So what happens when someone has worn them for an extended period?"

"A marvellous question Ian. So do enlighten us to the answer, if you would be so kind Marcus." Brutus prompted.

Marcus stretched as he reached for a new bottle. "The catalogue, should it be believed, stated that perhaps the lady's hair might begin to be eaten off by those selfsame hairclips. And for the amount of money that you are going to be paying Brutus, I expect a money back guarantee."

"I'll be sure to be around her more often in the coming weeks, so that she can properly thank me when they arrive." Brutus replied, unperturbed.

"I like hairclips." Terry remarked suddenly.

Eyebrows were raised collectively in his direction.

Terry flushed. "Not on me, you prats, but as pieces of art. That so much artistry and craftsmanship can be displayed on such minute surfaces is truly fascinating."

"And this is why we keep Terrence around; so that should we lose something his Niffler-blood will have it found in half a jiffy." Adrian informed them.

"So that is the explanation. I'd always wondered, you know." Marcus nodded. "Thanks for telling us, Pucey."

"Oh, piss off, the lot of you. You all adore me." Terry flopped like a dying fish, then changed the topic back to his own problems again. "It's not like Katie is so bad."

"Though she is a serial broom stealer." Adrian interrupted immediately.

Everyone ignored him.

"She's nice and everything," Terry continued, "but what if I had wanted to go with one of my admirers? Half of the female population of this school is besotted with me; I feel like I am letting them down by going with my cousin."

"Since the entire female population of this school finds me attractive on some level or another, I actually feel that I am doing them a great service by going with my sister." Adrian announced. "Then it doesn't look like I'm favouring anyone. Also, it looks especially good to those who are into familial loyalty. They think that if you show responsibility to your family that it means that you are less likely to stray once they get you. It gives them hope. And who am I to deny a poor bint some hope?"

"Not that either of you believe in narcissism." Brutus rebuked mildly.

Adrian's brow creased in confusion. "What does believing in my cousin have to do with any of this? She is married already and has a son; weren't we just speaking of him? Draco?"

"Never mind Ian." Brutus rolled his eyes. "You were just speaking of your irresistibility to the opposite gender, please continue."

"Yes, I am quite irresistible." Adrian shook his perfect blonde tresses off his forehead in a gesture of extreme poncy-ness

Marcus rolled his eyes.

"So, I should just go with my cousin?" Terry needed reaffirmation. "My adoring masses won't think less of me?"

Adrian nodded regally. "Of course, Terrence."

Marcus stirred. "I think it will make you look like a pansy. Make everyone think that you have no backbone; that you only do that which your family thinks is the best course. You don't want to just be the quintessential pretty boy Quidditch player, Adrian has that role down pat. You should do something wild. If they can't pin you down, it will make you seem more desirable."

Interest had sparked in Terry's eyes. "What do you mean by 'wild,' Marcus?"

"Something completely unexpected. Like taking out a girl from another house. A Gryffindor, even. Or a real young bint, to cultivate interest in those who might not know of you as well." Marcus' voice had turned into his teaching tone that he used on the Quidditch pitch, causing both Adrian and Terry to sit up a bit straighter in their chairs.

Terrence brushed at his dark hair, in a nervous gesture. "Well, there is this little Gryffindor pureblood that has the most spectacular breasts that I've seen outside of Seventh Year."

"That second year? Alice Spinner?" Adrian quirked his head.

"Her name is Alicia Spinnet, you berk." Terry retorted sullenly.

"Spinnet? She just made the Gryffindor House team." With a half hidden smirk, Marcus continued. "That daft Scotsman has Gryffindor training right now, I gave him our pitch time because of the unseasonal sleet. She'll be cold and wet. And the young ones are always easy prey to gallantry."

Terrence's whole face lit up. "Really, Marcus? Thank you so much." And with that, he popped out of the armchair and dashed off.

"That was impressively subtle of you Marcus." Brutus mentioned as he snatched the bottle that Terry left behind.

Adrian tipped back his own bottle. "And Terry will never twig it out on his own."

Brutus smiled. "And we certainly aren't going to help him."

"No, there would be no fun in it at all." Adrian smiled as well.

"Shove off, the lot of you." Marcus grumbled.

"This is my parlour. I don't need to leave." Adrian said imperiously.

"Fine then." Marcus stood, taking his bottle with him. "I'll be on my way then."

Just as Marcus was closing the door behind him, he heard Adrian's voice. "A case of this rot that we're drinking says that that he goes and makes the young Bell aware that no one else will be taking her to Samhain but him."

"You obviously don't know him very well." Brutus retorted. "Two cases of this rot says that Marcus will make every bloke aware that Katie will be unavailable to go to the Samhain with them, but she will remain blissfully unaware."

"Done."

There was the sound of bottles clinking.

Marcus stormed off down the hallways. Damn Brutus' intellect.

**

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Disclaimer:

The characters and many of the locations described herein are the property of J. K. Rowling and all of her varied associates. The situations are based on passages by ceejay. I own whatever creative licence is leftover. 


	6. Sorority

Chapter 6

Sorority

This story is based off of a passage in the story Detained by the most wondrous se1ge. She has given me permission to do this. While reading Detained is not necessary to understand this story, I would greatly recommend it to anyone who likes snark, or great writing, or hot romance. So I encourage the reader-ly consumption of se1ge's fic especially since it is now on this site.

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"Would you call these robes Slytherin green or grass green?" Anastasia asked while pulling yet more sets of dress robes off the massive pile on the settee in their shared parlour. The three girls were clustered around a magically enlarged mirror that they had pulled out of Morgaine's bedroom. The divan closest to the mirror was now stacked high with dress robes of every colour and style. Morgaine and Anastasia had both started piles of "maybes" on a second settee; Katie had yet to even try on one set of robes.

"Don't ask me," Katie exclaimed, eyes wide. "I can just tell you they are green. If you want more detail you are going to have to ask someone who pays a bit more attention to fashion."

Morgaine tut-tutted as she pawed through the pile of dress robes herself. "Come now, Katie. Despite being hopeless at the fit and form of dress robes even you know what grass looks like. And since you have been saturated in the colours of Slytherin for the last four years you have no excuse for not recognising it either. Anastasia at least has the excuse of knowing English only as a second language. Or is it your third?"

"If my oldest sister is to be believed, English is my forth language." Anastasia responded with a mischievous smile.

"Your family just sounds far too complicated for me." Katie cringed as she poked at the pile of dress robes.

"Katharine," Morgaine shrilled, "firstly, stop acting like those robes are going to attack you. Secondly, you are only intimidated by Anastasia's family because you are an only child."

"Says the girl with only one brother." Anastasia muttered to Katie as she pulled out a soft blue robe and handed it to the other girl.

"Anyone in their right mind would be intimidated by Stasia's family." Katie cautiously ran her fingers over the plush velvet of the robes that Anastasia had just handed her. "She has 10 brothers and sisters! Any family that can populate their own Quidditch team, complete with reserves, should be treated with caution."

"I only have 9 brothers and sisters. There are 10 of us in total." Anastasia corrected as she dug into the pile again and came out with heavily embroidered red robes and shook them out.

Katie rolled her eyes. "Greatest apologies." She continued to fidget with the blue robes in her hands.

"Made all the more complicated by the fact that none of you were born in the same country." Morgaine sniffed. She then dropped her dressing gown to the floor and started pulling on a set of black dress robes with silver sleeves.

Anastasia had gone back to the green robe and was holding it up to the light. "The twins were born in the same country."

"Obviously," Morgaine drawled as she admired herself in the mirror, twisting the form fitting robes so that they fell perfectly off of her angular body.

"And Carey and Rhys are both born in Wales." Stasia told them distractedly as she continued to try to discern the exact shade of green she was holding. "This is one of the few times that it bothers me that our dormitories are underneath the lake. It makes for great ambiance but there are some days that bright sunlight would not be amiss."

"Lumos maxima." Brutus intoned from his previously forgotten about position reclined on a chaise longue across from them. A great ball of light shot out his wand, bathing the room in bright, almost clinical, light. It moved and settled itself above the mirror that the three girls were all standing around.

Anastasia beamed. "Thank you so much, Brutus! I can now say with certainty that these robes are grass green."

Brutus muttered some sort of demurring comment and went back to reading his History of Magic textbook.

Morgaine would not be distracted. "I thought the only reason why you had two brothers from Wales was that Rhys was the only one of your family's children that they didn't try to hide that it was an appropriation adoption."

Morgaine was of course referring to the controversial practice that had been instated by the British wizarding community in the post-Grindewald era. Taking children with magical promise from muggle families and giving the children to old pureblood families with thinning bloodlines. It was a well-known fact that Anastasia's family had spearheaded the bill originally. And it was very hard not to notice that the children in Anastasia's family all had a strange resemblance to the people of the country of their birth. Especially when you compared her Scottish eldest brother's auburn hair and green eyes to her youngest brother, born in Germany, who had white blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

"Rhys is adopted but no one has ever tried to hide that." Stasia shrugged. "He is the son of my mother's best friend and when she and her husband died, Rhys became our brother. His mother died right after I was born, I don't ever remember a time when he wasn't my brother."

Morgaine pulled the black robes off and tossed them haphazardly to the "maybe" pile. She donned her dressing gown once more to ward off the ever-present chill in their dormitory, regardless of how highly stoked you kept the fire. She gave Brutus a wink when she noticed that he had let his book drop a few inches to allow him view of his girlfriend's scantily clad body. As she walked back over to the large pile of as yet untried on dress robes and gowns, she refocused on the conversation. "While it was very saintly of your family to adopt yet one more child, I suppose the appropriation adoptions aren't the worst thing that your family could have done to shore up the blood lines. They could have taken the Flint route and interbred with trolls."

"That is all codswallop and you know it, Morgaine." Brutus entered the conversation for the first time, his voice sharp with anger. "All rumours and figments of fancy made up by unsavoury wizards who were hoping to damage the Flint's standing in the community and prevent the marriage of Ursula Flint to Phineas Nigellus Black."

Katie and Anastasia both looked a bit startled by Brutus' abrupt entrance into their conversation but Morgaine shrugged delicately, apparently unperturbed. "I would expect no less loyalty from Marcus Flint's best friend. I am only saying that it is worthy of note that all descendants on the Flint line from Ursula's generation and from that point on have been unusually tall and swarthy skinned for a family of supposedly all British wizards."

"There are plenty more realistic reasons for why that is the case. Interbreeding with trolls being at the bottom of the list." Brutus scowled.

Katie let the blue robes in her hands fall back onto the big messy pile on the settee. "Also, Marcus's family relocated their main family holdings from Suffolk to Yorkshire at around that time and intermarried with the more local wizarding families. And after the long Viking presence in that area, they are more than a bit taller than your average Brit up in Yorkshire." Katie rambled as she cautiously poked at the pile again.

Brutus nodded and harrumphed his approval of this theory before pulling his book back up and resuming his reading.

"Is that not where your mother was born, Katie?" Anastasia asked as she eyed Brutus for a moment and, deeming it was safe, dropped her dressing gown and quickly shimmied into the grass green dress robes.

Morgaine studied Anastasia in grass green robes. "Katie's mother was from Somerset, everyone knows that is where the Hepplewaite's are from." She then shook her head and declared. "Anastasia, that green doesn't suit you. Try on the embroidered red ones you were fiddling with earlier."

As Anastasia began to pull off the grass green robes, Katie was picking at the pile again trying to find something appropriate that she might also find comfortable. "Actually Morgaine, Stasia is right. I'm surprised you didn't know that my mother was an appropriation adoption. It was never hidden but as with most of the old pureblood families, we just don't talk about it much. She was born to muggle's in Wigginton just outside of the city of York. From what we know of them they were locals and as such probably had some relation to the Vikings who claimed the area for so many years. Hence the reason why my mother is tall, blonde and blue eyed and her parents are both of average height and dark haired."

"Really?" Morgaine asked stiffly, obviously a bit put out that Anastasia knew this piece of gossip but not her. "I have never met your grandparents, I had no idea that was the case. Having read Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy, I knew that your mother's pure-blood family has been based in Somerset, near Bath, for centuries."

"Guh," Katie choked in disgust. "You have actually read that book on purpose? I have only ever picked it up to figure out if I am distantly related to someone."

"All proper pureblood girls should have read and memorised the entire contents before attending Hogwarts. Therefore they know who is acceptable to associate with." Morgaine spoke with great haughtiness then snatched the grass green dress that Stasia had been trying.

"I have never picked up this book of which you speak." Anastasia muttered as she tried to extract the heavily embroidered red gown from under the mess Katie was making by picking through the robes. "If I ever need to know how anyone is related to anyone else, I send an owl to my mother and she will happily tell me. She also does research into the muggleborn lines of our family; she is half-blood so she finds muggle genealogy just as important as the pureblood lines."

Morgaine made a sickened noise as she dropped her dressing gown again and then quickly pulled the grass green robes over her head. She might have muttered something unkind about Anastasia's mother's muggle fertility but thankfully it was muffled by the velvet of her robes.

Anastasia rolled her eyes as she too dropped her dressing gown and pulled the embroidered red robes on. "By all means please, disallow my family coming to your parties and stop doing business with us. Just keep in mind that my family will take all of Wizarding Wales and the Outer Hebrides with us and with it all the dragons of Britain. You see how long your economy will last without domestic dragons." She began pulling on the laces on the sides and back of the robes to adjust the fit.

"Didn't you know, Morgaine?" Katie said with a forced innocence in her voice. "Do not meddle in affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup."

Morgaine grumbled as her face emerged from the velvet neckline. She then bustled over to the mirror to admire her reflection in the green robes. "This is by far the most suitable of all that I have tried on. Brutus, what do you think?" She turned expectantly to her boyfriend.

He obligingly dropped his book and regarded her seriously. "They are definitely grass green robes."

"Ugh!" Morgaine stamped her foot. "Men can be so useless. What do you think of how the robes fit me?" She stressed the words as she flitted her hands down her body once more, ironing out invisible wrinkles.

"I agree they are the best of the robes. You looked stunning in all of the previous robes as well but these robes bring out more of you. Your personality shines through them." Brutus dutifully intoned.

Morgaine beamed at him and for a moment Katie saw her as just a happy teenage girl, flattered and pleased with her boyfriend's compliments. But as she spun around to face the mirror again, the haughty superior Slytherin returned to her demeanour. With a final sweep of her hands down her robes, she rounded on Katie. "Why have you tried nothing on yet?"

"I wanted to make sure that you got the robes you wanted before I chose mine." Katie lied weakly.

"Bah! Don't give me such of a Hufflepuff answer." Morgaine then started tearing through the pile of robes, discarding them pell-mell on the floor when they didn't meet her fancy. She stopped when she found a midnight blue set of robes with silver stars embroidered over the bodice. "Try these on. Your father was a Ravenclaw so it won't be too heretical."

Katie cautiously took the dark blue velvet from Morgaine and tried not to cringe when she saw that it had the long tight sleeves that she hated so much about traditional dress robes. As a chaser, she always found that her arms looked too big and muscled; these stupid monstrosities of fashion highlighted one of her least favourite features. Mind you: her hair, her face and her long lanky body were also on her least favourite list but it was best not to dwell on that now.

Thankfully Anastasia decided sweep between Katie and Morgaine at that moment, somehow managing to knock Morgaine over, who gave an undignified squawk as she went down onto the massive pile of robes and gowns. The embroidery on the robes suited her well, or as Brutus had put it "made her personality shine." The complex patterns of the embroidered center placard of the bodice contrasted against the bold red satin that constituted the rest of the dress. She had always had more colour to her skin than the average British girl and the rich red of the robes highlighted that rosy complexion beautifully. She did a final turn in the mirror, enjoying the short train of her skirt, and clapped her hands together in satisfaction. "Harosho!"

"God bless you." Katie muttered back in response.

Still beaming, Anastasia rolled her eyes at her roommates attempt at humour. "You try to deflect the conversation from your lack of dress robes. It won't work."

"I have done nothing of the sort!" Katie drew herself up and pulled a set of dress robes from the pile at random. It was an unfortunate cerise and teal combination that would have been popular while her mother was going to school.

"Yes, you have." Brutus glanced up from his textbook. "And those are horrendous."

"You are such of a wonderful presence to have, Brutus!" Anastasia was still smiling broadly. "So many petty squabbles are being solved before they can even become issues!"

Morgaine had picked herself up out of the messy pile of robes with as much dignity as she could muster. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and shot a quick succession of glares at everyone in the room. "Anastasia, is there a reason why you have been so full of praise for my boyfriend today?" She pulled the fluorescent robes out of Katie's unresisting fingers. "Because your desperation at finding and securing your own boyfriend is becoming painfully obvious."

After a sardonically arched eyebrow, Stasia went to work unlacing the sides of her robes, a long stream of mumbled language tumbled from her lips as she worked. While Katie could not tell if the language she was speaking was Russian or Welsh, she was fairly certain that it translated along the lines of: "Who's calling who desperate?"

Morgaine tossed the teal and cerise robes aside and considered the massive pile of robes remaining on the settee, conveniently choosing to let the argument with Anastasia die. She then began to pull robes out of the mess, no rhyme or reason to their order at least in Katie's opinion. A deep green (potentially Slytherin green) set of robes was considered briefly before joining the cerise and teal robes on the floor. Black robes with purple sleeves soon joined them. Robes of scarlet and gold were immediately thrown on the floor without a second glance. Midnight blue robes were held carefully to Brutus' created light but were then placed on the floor with a bit more reverence than the rest. This pattern continued through robes of every colour that Katie had ever seen including a few that she hadn't.

Anastasia had finished untying the stays on her robe and quickly pulled it over her head and put her quilted dressing gown back on, apparently deciding that she would be warmer in that over the thin satin robes. She seemed to understand what Morgaine was doing and began to sift through the robes as well. Anastasia also seemed to be discarding every robe that she found.

They were both so intent on their mission that Katie was beginning to feel uncomfortable and was considering how to start a conversation with Brutus just to better pass the time. After glancing at the textbook propped up in his lap, she decided on using History of Magic as her icebreaker.

As she started to shuffle back towards Brutus' chaise, Morgaine snapped her head around before beckoning at her with an imperious hand. "Katherine stop skulking away. You must try these on at once."

The silver silk robes flowed like water in Morgaine's hands. The colour was that of moonlight. Katie was delighted to see that the misty coloured silver brocade sleeves were cut in the more ancient style of dress robes, shaped like a bell. True, nowadays, it was only the very old that wore sleeves like that, Dumbledore being the first that sprung to mind, but Katie had always preferred this style. When she was a young girl she had always felt that princesses would wear sleeves like this. Reverently, she took the robes from Morgaine's outstretched hands, luxuriating in the cool smoothness of the silk. Carefully she held the robes up to check the length. Katie released a breath of disappointment when she saw that the beautiful robes appeared too short for her long legs.

"They don't fit." She tried to keep the tremor of sorrow out of her voice.

"You do not know that for sure until you have tried them on." Anastasia told her in a brisk voice, coming over to fuss at the bottom hem of the robes.

There was an expectant pause where Morgaine and Stasia looked at Katie, waiting for her to move.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Katie asked, eyes wide.

"Change into the silver robes already." Morgaine snapped.

Katie felt her jaw drop. "I'm not getting changed in front of everyone!"

Anastasia quirked an eyebrow at her friend. "You are on the Slytherin Quidditch team, one would assume that you would have to change in front of a much more varied audience than your roommates plus a boyfriend."

"I never change in front of anyone!" Katie clutched the top of her thick dressing gown in defence. "I change into my Quidditch gear in the castle and after a game or a practice Marcus makes all the boys shower quickly and leave for the common room before I shower and change myself."

Stasia and Morgaine shared a look that spoke volumes.

"How kind of Marcus." Anastasia's lips quivered.

"Touching really." Morgaine added with an arched eyebrow. "Tell me, does Marcus guard the door of the changing room while you shower? Or does he barricade himself in the captain's office, which is just adjacent to the showers – if memory serves, and wait for you to request his help? Maybe to get something you can't reach all by yourself"

"Enough." Brutus muttered with a sharp look at Morgaine.

"I have no idea what you are implying Brutus darling." Morgaine replied airily.

Brutus raised his eyebrow in return. "No, of course not."

The tense atmosphere was interrupted by the rustling scrabbling of a post owl falling down the chimney and into the parlour. Impressively avoiding landing in the fire, the little barn owl fell with an unceremonious thud to the stone flagged floor, his brown paper wrapped package making an ominous and expensive sounding tinkling. With a shake of his wings he soared over to the pile of robes in a plume of soot before landing closest to Morgaine and divesting his package. It was clearly marked to Morgaine Montague from a well-known and expensive owl-order company based out of Diagon Alley. The little owl hopped back before flapping out his sooty wings and gliding over to Brutus, searching for a tip or at least some owl treats.

While Brutus rummaged in his schoolbag for the owl, Morgaine was carefully unwrapping first the brown-paper wrapping and then the elegant hand stencilled gift-wrap that surrounded a blue velvet jewellery box. Katie noticed that Morgaine was wearing a sweeter smile than her normal Machiavellian personality would allow. With reverent fingers, Morgaine undid the silver bow and opened the case to admire the most stunning pair of hair combs Katie had ever seen. The silver spine of the combs was inlayed by the most delicate of filigree, the teeth of the comb appeared to be made out of bone that was as decorated as the spine and the whole piece seemed to emanate the pearlescent glow of moonlight. As Morgaine carefully removed the combs from their case a small shift of parchment fell out and Anastasia immediately snatched it off the floor.

"In remembrance of all that we've shared. Thinking of you." Stasia read, her hand fluttering to her chest. "That is so sweet for you to send that, Brutus!" She passed the note to Morgaine.

Katie was once more pleased to see that Morgaine was a blissfully happy teenage girl. Staring between her new exquisite hair combs, the note and her boyfriend, who was still searching for owl treats in the depths of his overstuffed schoolbag, completely chuffed to bits. She tucked the note into the bodice of her robes, over her heart, and then carefully pulled her long black hair back away from her face using the combs. Too pleased to remember to walk seductively, Morgaine strode over to Brutus (who had finally produced an owl treat) and kissed him hard before he even knew what was happening. He didn't protest to his girlfriend leaning over his chaise, in low cut robes, kissing him aggressively. Apparently deciding that their audience wouldn't mind, Brutus pulled Morgaine down onto his lap and slid one hand into her hair.

Brutus' eyes flew open and he pushed Morgaine away from him, staring desperately at her hair. Before Morgaine could even complain at the sudden change of pace, Brutus had pulled the combs out of her hair. They seemed to snag while pulling out of her hair and Morgaine made an undignified squeak of pain. In an unexpectedly coordinated move for someone so sickly-looking, Brutus had extricated himself from the chaise while miraculously leaving Morgaine still on it. Holding the hair combs at arms length, as if they were toxic, Brutus tried to explain but it only came out as incomprehensible jabber.

"So sorry, darling. No it isn't you! They aren't for you… Well they are for you but not as you think they are. Yes they are beautiful and made in the Han dynasty but you can't have them. Not that you don't deserve such beautiful things! You do! Just not these, these just can't be worn. I will make it up to you, sorry. I'll be right back!" And with that Brutus turned tail and ran out of the room.

With Morgaine still shell-shocked on the chaise, it was left up to Anastasia to give a long whistle. "That was unexpected. Do either of you have any idea why Brutus wants Morgaine's hair jewellery for himself?"

"While I agree that Brutus would look stunning with those hair combs, I would posit a guess that runs more towards other boys in Slytherin." Katie's mouth quirked in satisfaction.

"Brutus bought those hair combs for Terry?" Anastasia asked, aghast.

Katie couldn't help but snort with laughter.

It seemed to bring Morgaine back to reality and with a violent movement she launched herself from the chaise towards the door to the hall. "Marcus Flint! I will pull your entrails through your nostril for this!" She screeched as she stalked out.

Suppressing a grin, Katie quickly crossed the room and shut the door. Still believing that time was of the essence, she dropped her dressing gown and shimmed into the silver robes.

As she walked over to the mirror, Katie braced herself for disappointment as she could already feel her feet sticking out from the bottom of the robes. She watched her reflection's frame collapse under the heavy weight of her sigh. Her purple unicorn slippers were perfectly visible below the bottom of the hem. To add insult to injury, the sleeves that Katie was so taken with ended a hand-span above her wrist. "Back to the drawing board, I guess."

"Don't be hasty." Admonished Stasia as she inexplicably began rummaging through the robes. After pulling the scarlet and gold robe from the floor, where Morgaine had so quickly discounted it, she knelt by Katie in front of the mirror. "I have 4 sisters, all the gold in Gringotts cannot prevent hand-me-downs from happening."

With that declaration, she pulled her russet coloured maple wand from the pocket of her dressing gown. The scarlet robes had a 6-inch silver embroidered gold-cloth trim along the bottom hem of the skirt and with a quick muttered "diffindo" Anastasia was carefully severing it off of the robes. After the long band of gold-cloth was in her hands, Stasia then matched the middle of Katie's robes with the middle of the embroidered band and began to mend the 2 disparate objects together with the "reparo" charm. Making quick work of the bottom hem, Anastasia began to severe the gold trim off of the sleeves of the scarlet robes and then she stood and magicked it onto Katie's silver sleeves. After what seemed like ages for Katie, Stasia stepped back and admired her work critically. "Not perfect." She muttered. "But if you ask my sister Mercedes she would make it so seamless that no one would ever guess that it came from two different robes."

Katie carefully ran her hand over the new gold trim of her sleeves. "It's perfect now, thank you."

Anastasia shrugged off her praise. "Ask Mercedes anyway, she would be happy to help you."

Katie took in her appearance in the mirror. The silver silk of the bodice highlighted her pale décolletage without making her skin look ghastly and washed out. The gold-cloth embroidered trim set off her blonde hair perfectly, bringing a new lustrous quality to her long honey tresses that she had never seen before. As she took in all of her beautifully showcased attributes, Katie could see herself standing taller and with more confidence. It was the first time since she had come to Hogwarts that she could genuinely say that she felt that she could call herself attractive. With that knowledge came a relaxing, warm tingling feeling that ran down her body. She smiled at herself in the mirror. "I look amazing."

Hearing the slight incredulity of her friend's voice, Stasia ran a hand down Katie's sleeve. "But of course, darling." She then wrapped an arm around Katie's waist and caught her eye in the mirror, despite the top of Stasia head only reaching her friend's chin. "Are you ready to go with Marcus to Samhain now?"

"I'm not going with Marcus, I'm going with my family." Katie insisted while she ran her hands over the smooth silk of the robes.

Anastasia's eyebrow came up at that but she nodded and smiled for her friend's benefit. "Of course." She stepped away from Katie and pulled out her wand again to begin packing away all of the robes scattered over their parlour.

Katie continued to stare at her image in the mirror until Stasia shrunk the mirror back to its original size some time latter. Startled from her reverie, she pulled the beautiful silver robes off and carefully folded them on the chaise before she remembered to pull her dressing gown back on.

"I have one requirement of you before you go to Samhain." Anastasia told her as she was levitating the original sized mirror back into Morgaine's room.

"Really? What is that?" Katie's gaze sharpened on the back of her roommate. "If this is about Marcus, I don't want to hear it."

"Nothing to do with Marcus." She said as she closed Morgaine's door with a snap. "You need to wear more appropriate footwear than your purple unicorn slippers. Understand?"

hr

Author's note:

To my readers of many years, I need to apologise for the time it has taken me to write and then upload this chapter. For those who have come on since my hiatus, I am sorry to you as well. One of the most frustrating experiences I find on is those stories that are trapped on a precipice by an author who refuses to update. I feel horrible that I have been such a person to you all. I want to try to give some context for my lengthy absence.

I alluded to in the previous chapter that I moved to Britain and that took a lot of time and effort. What took even more out of me was the world recession that made it very difficult to find a job in a foreign country even though I had what amounted to a citizen-born-abroad passport. And what made finding a job completely impossible was the depression that I have had issues with since I was 11. I lost all enthusiasm and ability to do anything productive while I lived there isolated and without my family for the first time in my life. The great and wonderful Elandria (go read her Labyrinth fics!) and her absolutely marvellous fiancé took me in. They were everything I could have possibly asked for but if I am honest I was too far gone in my own depression to actually resurrect the situation and be able to find a way to live in England.

So I shipped myself home on the very last of my life's savings. After I got back to Canada my depression, which had been bad while in Britain, turned into a black pit and I honestly did nothing but sleep and read for the next few months after I came back. Eventually my mum had enough of me sleeping in her basement and doing nothing that she got me to a doctor and I started taking some anti-depressants. I started being a more functional member of society at that point. After some manhandling by my aunt, I started working again. Around this time I started trying other medications to see if I could start feeling like a real person again.

The medications caused me to lose a lot of weight and I started getting way more attention than I was used to. Especially since my job at the airport put me in the public eye way more than I had ever been before. I'll admit to it being flattering at first but it soon grew irritating because I knew that none of these guys would have talked to me if I had been heavier and that made it all seem very superficial. I had several relationships with guys that I met either at or through the airport and I'd be lying if that didn't keep my attention far away from writing stories.

One of these relationships was ending at about the same time that I had a brilliant idea that I should buy a house at the ripe old age of 23. I should mention that while I was preparing to move to England and while I was trying to get everything in order to buy a house, I convinced myself that any time that I had to write stories was time that I could have spent researching and applying for jobs in Britain or working out how I was going to afford a house on my measly budget. So I wrote nothing at all during this time. This marks the least creative time of my life. I was very obsessed with the commerce of the world and how I was going to survive in it. At the time of me jumping through all the hoops to buy my house, truly unbeknownst to me, I was having very strong reactions to one of the medications I was taking. I was borderline psychotic to the guy I was going out with at the time and the fact that he found it in him to keep up a friendship with me afterwards was just mind blowing.

In the year waiting for my house to be built and trying to get off the medication that made me such a crazy person, I had a lot of ups and downs. I think it was in that time that I did my first writing since coming back to Canada. I had a few more failed relationships and in that time discovered how not fun it can be to be admired for your looks and nothing more. Suffice to say I got out of there but it completely changed how I interacted with men and how safe I felt around them.

After this unsettling time, I moved into my brand new house that I had bought and things were looking up again. I started up a romantic relationship with a guy who had been a very good friend to me. Perhaps another title for this author's note is that Kat spent 1 year being unemployed and 3 years interacting with men. In all honesty though, this was the best relationship I had ever been in. Which made it all the more difficult when it ended very abruptly for reasons that I still can't fully understand. It limped on in a quasi-relationship for months because neither of us were healthy enough individuals to stop being a daily part of each other's lives. Eventually after an argument that I wasn't trying to make into an argument we more completely broke it off and it became a time of radio-silence between us. Which was so much more healthy than we had been but that isn't saying much.

Shockingly, this did nothing for my ongoing troubles with depression. I had huge problems before I had a complicated guy issues thrown in. And while we both adhered to radio-silence, through our shared friends and obligations we spent far too much time interacting than any two exes ever should. So I lost six more months to complicated depression issues rather than writing a story for you guys.

Somewhere near when I could see the light at the end of the tunnel and I was starting to feel better and think about moving on with my life (and ergo start writing again) my blood dad had a mini-stroke. I became responsible for him until he got to a better place and was able to live on his own again but still it took yet more out of me emotionally and limited how much time I had to think about writing. I was ordered by my dad's doctors to move him out of my house before my brother and I developed substance abuse issues – which was really funny by the way – and my mum then insisted that I get out of my house and get out of the province for a little while.

While I was gone my sister approached me and told me that she had been thinking very hard and wanted to become an editor as a profession. I was really proud and then asked if maybe she wanted to look at my stories (Fantasieve in particular) and see what she could make of them. So began the process of her subtly and not-so-subtly poking me to get me to start writing again.

Working at the airport also gave me some unexpected inspiration. I saw a couple that look exactly the way that I have always imagined Marcus and Katie to look like as adults. It was astonishing to watch people that looked so much like people who I have been imagining for over 10 years now. They moved the way I thought they would, they interacted the way I thought they would and they had the most beautiful daughter that I could have possibly imagined. Yes, this is all a lot of fantasy work on my part but honestly that is how I felt observing these people. Yes, I know that they are everyday humans who have much more mundane jobs than playing quidditch and I doubt they have magic wands. But in that moment of seeing them, I could only see them as Marcus and Katie who were FINALLY together as pre-ordained by the sacred text of Detained.

That vision of an alternate reality (in our reality) of Marcus and Katie, my blood dad being in a better state, my relationship with my ex being at it's least strange since we broke up and my sister's encouragements: I started writing again. Nowhere near how much I wrote while I went to university but after coming off of a four-year drought let's look at any writing as a good starting point.

I can't promise you that I am going to update this every month until it is finished. I still have ongoing issues with my depression and I need to do paying work to support my expensive hobby of owning a house. All I can tell you is that I know where I need to go in this story, my sister also knows and she won't let me forget.

Much love in this author's note going out to the beautiful Elandria and my amazing in every way sister! Everyone who has favourited and reviewed, I am honoured!

Hopefully it won't be quite as big a gap between chapters as this last one. ;-P

Vôtre toujours,

Katterrena

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**Disclaimer:** The characters and many of the locations described herein are the property of J. K. Rowling and all of her varied associates. The situations are based on passages by se1ge. I own whatever creative licence is leftover.


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